


Farewell on Voya Nui

by TigerOfTheTundra



Category: Bionicle - All Media Types
Genre: Goodbyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerOfTheTundra/pseuds/TigerOfTheTundra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kopaka turned to the first mask he had seen on the island of Mata Nui... now belonging to an earnest, determined Toa of Ice. Until we meet again, brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Farewell on Voya Nui

Kopaka turned to Matoro; they wouldn’t see each other for a long time, and it was time to say goodbye. Matoro, in response, lifted his head and squared his shoulders. The corner of his mask flickered in a nervous smile as he silently presented himself. Kopaka examined him, all long limbs, unfamiliar armor, and energized weapons. A constant, steady question burned in the new Toa's eyes: Am I ready? What do I need to improve?

Nothing in this moment, Kopaka thought. Even as a Matoran he had been brave, steadfast, capable. And Kopaka had no advice, no words of wisdom that could build on the earnest heart in the Toa before him. Matoro stood on the brink of destiny, just like he himself once did, but already Matoro had achieved so much. So, with almost a warm regard, Kopaka put a hand on his shoulder and nodded once, yes. Matoro was ready to face anything. The young Ice Toa’s mask melted into a broad smile, and the two Toa of Ice stood in a gratified sort of silence together, just as they did so often in Ko-Koro. But Kopaka knew they would have to set out soon.

“See you in Metru Nui, brother,” he said, and extended a fist to Matoro. The young Toa seemed startled by the gesture.

“See, see you in Metru Nui,” he murmured. Then he touched his fist to Kopaka’s. “Brother.”

~

Kopaka stood before a lone memorial statue, near the center tip of a snowy Ko-Metru. Matoro had not returned; he learned this long before he made it back to Metru Nui. The figure at the top was one he’d never seen, an unfamiliar being with silver blades and mask. The final form the young Ice Toa had taken, before his death. He touched the carved name at the bottom, his finger tracing the “m” and “a”. For a moment he contemplated many things he could say, apologies, eulogies, trite placating words about destiny. His hand touching the cold stone shook, and he let it drop. The carved name, more familiar than any grand statue, held his whole attention. He had nothing to say, and a statue had no ears to hear it. So he walked away into the rebuilt streets of Ko-Metru alone.


End file.
